


Chronicles of the One

by Somer75



Category: Somer (Chronicles of the One)
Genre: Escape, Fantasy, Fear, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somer75/pseuds/Somer75
Summary: His home and village attacked, Somer must flee to safety in the grotto.





	Chronicles of the One

Somer 

“Run, Somer! They’re coming. Go. Don’t stop for anything, no matter what. Not until you get to the grotto,” she told him, grief and urgency causing her voice to tremble. 

“But… but momma. What about you and poppa?” the boy quavered. He was scared and didn't really understand. He’d heard the rumors of the dark beasts his whole life but none believed them to be more than stories to frighten children. 

“Go now. Poppa and I will hold them back as long as we can." Then, placing her hand lovingly on his head, "Remember the things we’ve taught you. Remember the Way. Find it, my son. I love you. Now go.” 

Sobbing, he took his pack from his mother, hugged and kissed her a last goodbye and climbed out the window as she rushed to the front of the house. 

As he fell into the dirt behind the house he heard a horrible snarl and crashing noise from the front of the house. He struggled to get up, to do what momma said. It’s just too much. How can I run away when so many others may have been hurt or are in danger? That’s not what poppa would do. 

He heard his parents’ cries of anger and strife as they strove to protect each other and their only child. Beastly snarls of rage and pain could be heard all throughout the small community. As he sat there in indecision he heard an agonized scream like he'd never heard before. It’s momma. No! He jumped up to go to her but was halted by Poppa’s bellows of anguish and complete abandon thundering through the house, followed by a great crashing sound of wood splintering and glass breaking. 

Silence followed. Is it over? Did poppa beat them? Standing up, Somer prepared to go in search of his parents. Suddenly, poppa’s blood curdling scream struck him. “Run, boy. Run!” 

\--- 

Somer ran through the dark mountain forest. He knew he must hurry. He had to run faster than he had ever run, but he couldn’t stop the screams echoing in his mind. 

Around him the forest was dark and foreboding. He knew these trees and yet, as his fear mounted, they seemed to reach out skeletal claws, grasping and raking at him. This path that he had walked many times with poppa had become a strange and twisted place. Stones and roots dragged at his feet causing him to stumble. The river was not far and the grotto not much more, yet the path seemed to stretch out interminably. 

Somer ran. He continued on through forest and mountain paths. As he ran he tried to recall all the twists and turns on the path he needed to take but the darkness of panic and terror was so encompassing that he could hardly do so. His vision was like a dark tunnel were nothing could be seen but the ground directly before him. He knew there is a cut-off he must take to get to the grotto. But where? 

In the distance, back at the village, he heard a chilling howl from dozens of unnatural throats and a piercing screech echoed through the woods. They’re coming. 

The hideous sounds sent icy pains of fear running down his spine. His frame trembled in chest tightening anxiety as they tracked ever closer. Death followed in their wake. The boy had already seen the terribly efficient way these, things, dispatched anything that crossed their path. He realized that he too may never see another day. 

"Momma. Poppa. Why did they stay to fight? They could have come with me. They should have. I need their help. Why did they…" 

The clacking sound of chitinous bodies, so near. They’re coming for me. 

He could hear the snapping of branches in the dark behind him. Where there should be the chirping of crickets, the ghostly hoot of great owls or the call of raccoons in the trees, there was only silence except for the quiet thunderous tread and rasping breath of the dark beasts. With their bent misshapen legs they prowled through the night in search of their elusive prey. Once on a trail they never stop. Not while there is the slightest spoor to follow. 

Somer continued on, running through the darksome forest. As he ran his thoughts began to clear. He recalled the path to the river and grotto. It was maybe a half furlong to the cutoff. Then through a dense pine thicket. The river was just beyond that. If he could get to the river before the beasts find him he might be able to follow it and throw them off his scent. Rushing on he took the path toward the river. 

They’re coming… 

No… 

They’re here. 

He crouched behind a fallen tree straining to be still. His breath was like a bellows in his ears, his heart hammering near to bursting. All he could think of was the beasts slavering jaws descending, of the terrible things these creatures had done to the people in the valley. "Nothing, nothing will ever be the same again. How can I possibly go on? Momma. Poppa." 

Trembling, he shoved it aside. All the grief, the fear and misery. Somer strained, but finally, he found a calmness inside. This was his peace, his center. The place he seeks when he must focus, concentrate. It was a place of light and harmony. Here it was that he has been taught by his parents to turn to, a source of inspiration, direction and comfort. 

He listened to the tread of the beasts as they sought him out, searching for traces of him. So close their fetid stench was almost palpable. Somer tensed in anticipation of a desperate fight that would surely be his last living moments. 

"Poppa. What would he do?" He knew this forest and the many creatures that inhabit it. He looks around. Sticks, small rocks, leaves and other detritus lay scattered about the forest floor. Nothing there that would be of much use. Various species of trees abound in the forest but the branches of those at hand were too far off the ground to climb. But, there, hanging just out of reach was the gray papery form of a hornets nest. 

The dark beast was almost upon him. Somer could hear the crackle of sticks and leaves under its great clawed feet as it paced closer. A miasma of fear emanated from its foul body causing Somer to cower in terror. "I'm going die. I'll be killed and dragged away to be eaten." His eyes were closed to block out the sight of the horror. His hope and will faded with the final approach of the beast. 

"Run boy, run!" Poppa's voice echoes in Somer's panicked mind. He grabbed a broken branch from the ground as he jumped to his feet. The dark beast hesitated for a moment at his sudden unexpected movement. That's all it took. Stepping quickly to the side, the hornets nest now before him, Somer swung the branch with all the strength his young body could muster. The hornets nest was propelled straight at the monster which instinctively snapped at it. Hornets began to disgorge form the nest that was now clamped tightly in the jaws of the beast, and mercilessly attacked the offending creature. 

Not waiting to see the results, Somer plunged headlong down the path toward the river. Running as fast as he could, faster than he thought possible, he raced to gain some distance ahead of the terror that follows. As he heard the howls of torment fade behind he began to have a real hope of escape. 

In the waning moonlight he could see the swiftly flowing water that was his salvation. Just a few hundred feet more. He gasped and stumbled as the flight began to take its toll. Pausing a moment to rest he listened for the sound of pursuit... nothing. Then suddenly the forest was alive with howls. There must have been four or five of them, and so close. Without another moment’s hesitation, Somer burst into flight once more. 

There, just ahead, the waters glistened in the night. He rushed down the final slope and into the swift flow of the river. The snarling of the beasts was upon him. A fiery lance of pain pierces his back as he dives beneath the surface seeking to hide. They raged about in the water, searching while Somer quickly and as quietly as possible swam downstream with the tugging of the current. 

Through his pain and fear he wondered how it is that these great hunting beasts were unable to find him in the water. Listening to their howls fade he was carried away from the nightmare as the thrashing of the creatures seemed to grow frenzied. 

Nearing the familiar cliff face, Somer ducked under the surface once more and swam hard toward the stone wall. Through the nearly hidden opening he finally passed into the calm waters of the grotto. He laboriously pulled himself up onto the stone rim of the small cave and lay there breathing hard and straining to hear any sounds of the creatures outside the grotto. His last thought as he succumbed to exhaustion is of the fate of his parents. "Did they make it?" 

\---


End file.
